


I could touch a hundred thousand souls (none of them would ever feel like home)

by a_sentimental_man



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Gen, Mitch-centric, References to Depression, Social Anxiety, can be read as slash/pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sentimental_man/pseuds/a_sentimental_man
Summary: an interlude after the tour.





	I could touch a hundred thousand souls (none of them would ever feel like home)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from anyone else by pvris

it was the last day of tour, and mitch was exhausted.  
he supposed it was time; he'd been trying to resist it, to delay his bone deep exhaustion that he always got during these kinds of tours, the exhaustion that he could never shake off, no matter how hard he tried.  
he rubbed his eyes tiredly, glad that the tour has ended. don't get him wrong; he loved meeting fans, talking with them, hearing how they've been inspired by him all through their lives.  
it was just that he felt distant from all of it, sometimes.  
he couldn't imagine that he was the one who inspired them, who defined their sexualities by seeing how open he was with his.  
he had trouble believing it was real, sometimes.  
he had trouble believing that he deserved that, sometimes.  
how could he, mitch grassi, the gay theater kid from texas, the one who was afraid of coming out, afraid of doing anything, really, who had crippling fucking social anxiety- be so influential? so well known?  
he collapsed into his bed, letting his body to numb, wishing for a moment when he could shut his mind to keep the thoughts from pouring in.  
he heard hear a sound in the distance.  
'mitchy?' he heard scott's voice saying distantly. 'are you okay?'  
he didn't respond, couldn't respond.  
he knew that whatever was going to come out of his mouth couldn't explain the sudden encompassing feeling he felt; of being trapped, worthless, undeserving.  
he could sense scott beside him now. 'stupid question, i know.' he said sheepishly. 'how about i cuddle with you, lay beside you for a bit?'  
mitch could feel his gratitude for scott distantly, the pure, unadulterated love at him for knowing what he liked best. of trying to do his best.  
'p-please,' he mustered out. scott lay gently beside him, putting his arm around mitch.  
and Mitch felt peace for the first time.  
He smiled.  
Tour was over.  
He was exhausted.  
But he was home, all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written as a coming mechanism because real life is being shitty to me. love that  
> and leave some comments! they always keep me going  
> twitter : kiyokograssi  
> tumblr: amerikated


End file.
